More Heaven, More Details

Getting tired of Paris? Hope not. Remember what Samuel Johnson said of London: "When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life..." I figure that can be said about Paris too. (Not to belabor the Paris/London connection, but it's been bouncing around for centuries, after all.)

Still, we're on the home stretch as far as blogification of our visit. Today, we'll touch on a couple more churches.

On Sunday morning, we went to Mass at Saint-Sulpice. The second largest church in Paris (after you-know-what) it was built in the 17th and 18th centuries, damaged during the Revolution, and restored by a team that included Eugene Delacroix. It also has some renown as the spot where Charles Baudelaire and the Marquis de Sade (that famously observant Catholic) were baptised, and where Victor Hugo was married (hmm... I'd have thought it'd have been you-know-what for him). And a couple scenes of The Da Vinci Codetake place there, if that's your thing.

But we went there for the organ.

I'm not a total organ geek, but I'm getting there. And St. Sulpice is a pretty good place to get started on that track. The instrument itself was built by Aristide Cavaille-Coll and is considered one of the greatest masterpieces in the world (well, the world of pipe organs, anyway). The St. Sulpice organ is singular not just for its immensity but also for its versatility: the variety and scope of the sounds and timbres that can be produced by its 5 keyboards and 100+ stops allows the organ to be equally at home with the music of its native Romantic era and with Classical or Baroque music, and more than capable of handling Modern compositions as well.

Since Cavaille-Coll completed construction on the organ in 1862, there have been only 6 principal organists (including an entire century from 1870-1971 during which only 2, Charles-Marie Widor and Marcel Dupré, held the post). Equally amazing is the fact that since the earliest organ was used at a church on this site, going back to some time in the 1500s, there have been only 16 principal organists.

These days, the title is held by Daniel Roth, who plays for two Masses each Sunday, and gives a 20-30 minute concert in the time between them. We went to the early service (but missed most of the prelude music because we were across the street having coffee) and stayed for the concert, natch. If you're really hardcore, you can go up to the organ loft for the second Mass and watch Daniel in action; we chose not to go that route, but it was a phenomenal experience, both musically and religious/theatrically.

I didn't take photos that day, so I'll let you hunt down images of l'eglise on your own if you like.

The next day (among other things) we paid a visit to Sainte-Chappelle. I've already mentioned that we caught a piano concert there on Friday evening; but this visit took some persistence to get past an overeager security guy. (But that's another box of wine.) It was also during the day, so we got to see the stained glass in all its glory.


The Rose Window

Here's the thing with Sainte-Chappelle: it's unbelievable. As in, it nearly defies belief. The facts about this church fall into the "truth is way stranger than fiction" category.


The Holy Family going to Nazareth

It's not that large. It really is 'just' a stone chapel (compared to, say, the Cathedral across the Île) though a very royal one, and an architectural and artistic wonder. The sanctuary walls are completely covered with stained glass: panels telling virtually every story from the bible, and a few "Go France!" type messages tucked in along the way.

This is some of the best of this kind of glass in the world; it's under restoration (which takes a long time, as you can imagine) and it's kind of tough to shoot, so have mercy on your humble photographer.


Knights and Pilgrims, doing their thing

Remember how long it took them to build Notre Dame? Couple hundred years. Know how many years it took to build this place? Fewer than 10. Thousands of panels of stained glass and all, and before the dawn of the 14th Century.


Priests and Sages discussing the design of the Girl Scout logo

The king in question was (Saint) Louis IX, who was one-of-a-kind: a peculiar mix of devout and suggestible. He loved the Church, loved the Pope, loved Jesus. LOVED them. Kind of went to crazytown in his enthusiasm, and spent vast fortunes on things like the "true" Crown of Thorns that Jesus wore at the Crucifixion, according to the account. Vast. Fortunes. Louis spent 135,000 livres (French currency of the era) in 1239 on that crown, convinced of its authenticity by Emporer Balwin II of Byzantium, who not coincidentally was also the guy who sold it to him. The king also bought a bunch of other relics, including a "Piece of the True Cross" (I know, I know) and over the next few years started construction on this church to house them all, dedicated to the glory of God, the Church, and France.



One of Herod's servants beheading John the Baptist, and wishing it was Louis IX

By the middle of 1248, the church was finished at a total cost of 40,000 livres. That's less than a third of the cost of the True Crown of Thorns to you and me, but still a princely sum. Well, kingly, in this case.

A bizarre initiation ritual for a Holy Roman Fraternity

All snarkiness aside, Sainte-Chappelle is a stunning place. And after all, Louis IX is far from the only head of state in history with a gullible streak. [I'll pause to let you reflect on that a moment...] And if you're going to misuse the public coffer, there are worse things you could do than build an incredibly gorgeous structure devoted to a supremely artistic account of religious texts and local history.

I'll leave you with a shot I took of the ceiling of the upper chapel. Placed the camera on the floor and set the remote timer so it could be perfectly still for a long exposure.



Wasn't counting on the surprise guest, but I'll call it a happy accident.